You Left Me
by If-Only-I-Could-Fall
Summary: When Magnus Bane went to stay at Ragnor Fell's house, he never expected to find what he did. He never expected to have a small, blue-eyed mundane start invading his every thought, and he certainly never expected said mundane to be able to see the Shadow World. It was an anomaly, and he intended to find out why, exactly, this so-called mundane boy had the Sight.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The kids across the street were really starting to grate on his nerves, and if they didn't _shut up_ , and quickly, Magnus was going to go over there and blast their little asses—

"You're growling, Mags."

Magnus' eyes narrowed, and he snapped his gaze away from the window to settle his glare on the white-haired man before him. He looked _so_ smug, but _he_ wasn't the one with the pounding headache. And this goddamned headache was all _his_ fault, anyway!

"Shut up. This is all your fault—if you hadn't ever dragged me out to that damned club last night, Ragnor, then maybe I wouldn't be 'growling'," Magnus hissed, closing his eyes and rubbing his throbbing temples. He had no patience for his supposed 'friend' at the moment, if you couldn't tell.

Ragnor grinned and sank down into the armchair across from Magnus. He was really trying Magnus' patience this morning, that's for sure. "Oh, what? Is little baby Magnus cranky today? Did you not get your nap, sweetie?"

Magnus glared at him, cursing his stupid white hair and his stupid green skin and the way he just _had_ to make his normal voice the volume of a Helter Skelter scream. Ragnor was the epitome of all that Magnus hated, at that moment. "Shut the hell up, Fell."

"Oh, now you've resorted to wounding me? How brash—and to think that I housed you even after you got yourself completely smashed!" Ragnor paused, a devilish glint in his dark eyes. "And I couldn't 'shut the hell up', anyway—Hell is, after all, down below. I can't shut hell _up_ , silly Magnus. It would have to be shut _down_ , and even then it would be more horizontal than anything—"

"My _God_ , just shut your mouth. Please."

Ragnor sat back in his seat, looking completely satisfied with himself. Annoying Magnus was one of his favorite pastimes, after all, and nothing was more fun that being cheeky when his glittery friend was hungover. Absolutely nothing topped that.

Sensing that his green friend was going to finally be quiet, Magnus looked back out of the window next to him, his sensitive ears pricking at the sound of high-pitched screams and laughter. Dark thoughts against children started to fill his head as he watched the group of kids across the street run around the front yard. He wasn't normally this horrible to children—in fact, he quite enjoyed the small beings, would like to have a few of his own someday, maybe—but today he just hated anything and everything that was being especially loud. Or bright.

So, yes, he had cursed out the sun when he'd first woken up. Don't judge him.

Another ear-shattering shriek reached Magnus' ears, and he groaned and winced, glaring through the window at the small child who had presumably created that horrid noise.

"Remind me again why I agreed to come here?" Magnus complained, glancing over at Ragnor out of the corner of his eye.

The green-skinned man had a glass teapot floating by his elbow, a fancy-shmancy teacup help in his hand, both most likely stolen from some unsuspecting mundane with a flick of his wrist. Magnus almost sighed—what he would give for a cup of coffee right about now…

And then he remembered—he could just summon himself one right up. He _was_ a warlock!

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , he thought to himself as he twitched his finger. A large, steaming hot macchiato appeared in his hand before he could blink, and he sighed in pleasure as he sipped at the drink. Yes, being a warlock had its perks.

As Magnus was enjoying the sweet bliss of caffeine, Ragnor said, "Well, you just couldn't stand to be away from my beautiful face for much longer. And there was also that thing with the vampire clan in Monte Carlo…"

Magnus internally winced at the thought of the vampires that he had abandoned somewhere in Europe, who were most likely out for his blood at this very moment. He hadn't meant to lead that werewolf pack right to their hideout… It just happened.

"And besides, I know that you've wanted to live in New York ever since the Brits came over. Don't lie to yourself." Ragnor dared him to deny this fact, raising a pale brow over at him.

"Fine, whatever you say." Magnus rolled his eyes, before looking back out at the kids across the street. They were still messing around, but they had calmed down more than before. He watched as a group of boys, who couldn't've been more than ten years old, gathered around another kid and started laughing—he couldn't really make out the other kid, though, so he assumed that they were just playing around, being jerky little snots like they were.

His mind started to wander as he watched the kids, though. His thoughts got so far off track that he didn't even realize that all the kids had gone to be little jerks elsewhere after a while; he just kept staring out the window. Why was he even in New York? Sure, he'd wanted to see Ragnor—it had been a couple decades since they last met up—but what other reason was he here for?

He didn't know, couldn't come up with an excuse for why he was currently sat in Ragnor's living room with a killer hangover, drinking caffeinated beverages stolen from some nearby coffee shop.

After a while of just sitting there, Ragnor brought him out of his head by standing up. "Well, it's almost two o'clock, and I don't know about you but I'm starving. Let's go get some food or something, eh?"

Magnus nodded distractedly, standing also. "Yeah…"

* * *

After getting dressed and making sure that he was fit to be seen in public—hangover be damned, he was going to look amazing with or without it—Magnus followed Ragnor out of the house. They were apparently going to some restaurant that was in the middle of town—so they were just going to walk there.

Ragnor lived in a small town in upper New York, close to Albany, so the majority of the town's population was crowded around itself. All grouped together in the middle of the town. And unlike New York City, there was never any traffic, so they could've technically driven to the restaurant, but what fun would that be?

Oh, yeah—they wouldn't've had to _walk_!

But Magnus wasn't going to complain about Ragnor's questionable ways of doing things—he was, after all, allowing Magnus to stay at his house for as long as he needed, until he decided where he wanted to go next.

Ragnor and Magnus walked side by side down the porch steps, down the walkway that led to the street in front of Ragnor's house. The day was cold, but surprisingly dry for New York, and Magnus wrapped his coat more tightly around his form. They were going to freeze their asses off before they even got to the restaurant, Magnus knew, and he was just preparing for the inevitable onslaught of cold as the made their way toward the middle of town.

At the end of the walkway, where landscaping stone met concrete sidewalk, the sounds of children rang out from across the street once more. Magnus glanced over, slightly cringing— because while his hangover may have faded a little, his head was still pounding, and the screeches of small beings was not helping at all.

But his interest was piqued when his eyes landed on the small forms across the street. A group of kids—around the age of ten or so, he supposed—were gathered around a couple of forms on the ground. The kids were all cheering and throwing insults and doing what little snot-nosed brats do, and the forms on the ground were a mass of flailing limbs. Magnus squinted, because he couldn't see the forms on the ground very clearly from where he was standing, but he caught glimpses of them through the legs of the kids surrounding them. He was immediately concerned and at an impasse with himself when he caught sight of blood through the barrier of legs—Should he intervene? Are those kids hurt? Should he go get a parent or… _something_?

And it was made even worse when he reminded himself that whatever the hell was going on across the street was absolutely none of his business and that he should just walk away. He wanted to help, yet he didn't know if he had any right to.

He was at a standstill—all the while watching the group of kids surrounding the forms on the ground cheer and jostle each other around as they watched whatever fight that was going on in front of them. Small cries of pain and grunts of satisfaction could be heard over the sound of cheering, and Magnus had to wince at the sound. Whoever was losing the fight over there must've been in a whole lot of pain for that sound to be so gut-wrenching.

And then Magnus had a thought: _Why are a bunch of kids cheering on a bloodbath? What kind of monsters are the mundanes breeding these days?_

When Ragnor started to walk past him on the sidewalk, not noticing that he had stopped to watch the brawl across the street, Magnus reached out a hand and halted him. Ragnor opened his mouth to ask what he wanted, but Magnus pointed towards where his eyes were still glued, making Ragnor look over as well.

"What's going on over there?" Magnus asked lightly, faking nonchalance and trying to hide his concern for whoever was getting the absolute shit beat out of them across the street.

Ragnor just shook his head, looking slightly annoyed. "It's those damn kids again. They're always fighting and screaming at each other. If I didn't want to remain inconspicuous, I would've blasted their asses months ago."

The sound of sobbing reached Magnus' ears as he continued to watch the brawl, and he found himself off the sidewalk and crossing the street before he could even think about what he was doing. Ragnor stopped him before he walked straight into the sights of an incoming car, and Magnus glanced back at him with a frown.

"We need to stop them. Someone is getting hurt over there—and pretty badly, by the sounds of it," Magnus said, pulling on his arm to free it from his friend's grasp.

Ragnor sighed, saying, "They do this all the time, Mags. Don't worry about it—kids do this kind of shit all the time. Their guardian will come break it up before anything serious happens. Now—let's go. I'm starving."

He started to walk in the direction of town once more, but Magnus didn't follow after him. He was thinking about what Ragnor had said, about ' _their guardian'_ …

"Should we at least go get their parents or something?" Magnus called after Ragnor, making the white-haired man stop and turn around once more.

" _Magnus_ ," he said exasperatedly, "just leave it alone. They'll be fine. Now _come on_ , let's _go_. You can mingle with the mundies later."

Magnus ignored him, though. He started across the street once more, after glancing around for any sort of parent or guardian and finding none. He heard Ragnor sigh behind him, and then footsteps following in his wake.

 _At least_ , he mused to himself as he stepped onto the sidewalk adjacent to that of Ragnor's house, _I won't have to face the apparently violent mundanes by myself_.

The group of kids was gathered in the yard of a large black-and-white house, which had to have at least three floors in it. Now that Magnus was closer to the 'scene of the crime', if you will, he could see that there were a few older boys mixed in with the younger ones—but not one of them, he noted, could be over thirteen.

Not that it really mattered to him, though—he just wanted them to stop brawling. If anyone asked, Magnus would say that he just wanted them to not be fighting anymore when he and Ragnor got back from dinner, that he enjoyed not having to listen to snot-nosed little brats roughhouse with each other all day. That wasn't the whole truth—though it was part of his reasoning for intervening; Magnus also wanted to make sure that whoever was crying, whoever was making those painful retching sounds that he'd heard from all the way across the street, was okay.

After all, he had a soft spot for kids—sometimes—and he wasn't going to stand by and watch while some child got beaten across the street. He'd never been good at staying out of things when they piqued his curiosity, anyway.

The kids were all huddled relatively close to the sidewalk, and Magnus walked right up to them and said, "Hey! What's going on?!" He even made sure to sound super 'adult-like' so that the kids would listen to him. He would be a wondrous father. He would have to be one someday… maybe in a couple of centuries.

The cheering from the kids stopped abruptly, a dozen young faces snapping around to look up into his eyes. He towered over these small beings. It was surprisingly satisfactory.

A kid with beady little eyes asked, more like demanded, "Who're you?"

Magnus sniffed, indignant. Who was _he_? That little brat—he was _Magnus Bane_. Humph.

Magnus opened his mouth to retort, but his ears picked up on the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and the groans of pain coming from the center of the group of kids, and he shoved Beady-Eyes aside, along with several other kids, so that the group was broken and he had a clear view of the kids on the ground.

He almost started spewing out the ugliest curses he knew when his eyes beheld the sight before him: a kid, about twelve or so with brown hair, was straddling a much smaller form on the grass. The bigger kid—Magnus assumed he was the bad-guy in this situation—was still throwing brutal punches down upon the small kid below him. He was laughing and cursing up a storm, startling Magnus because _kids aren't supposed to talk like that!_

But Magnus couldn't really give a shit about the bigger kid—all his attention was zeroed in on the crying form being beaten into the ground. He was so little, probably not even out of first grade yet, and there was blood all over the parts of his face that Magnus could see. The rest of him was blocked by his arms, which were held up over his face to protect himself feebly from the punches. His eyes were squeezed shut so tightly that Magnus would've been afraid that he'd hurt himself—you know, if he hadn't already been focused on stopping the little cunt on top of the boy from hurting him even further.

Half a second probably had passed since Magnus first parted the kids surrounding the two boys on the ground, and that was enough for him. He lunged forward, grabbed ahold of the back of the larger boy's shirt collar, and hauled him off of the poor kid on the ground. He'd seen enough—and he was going to have a serious talk with these kid's 'guardian' once he made sure the smaller kid was okay. Because really—what fucked up kind of parent lets their kids beat each other up like this? Mundanes were the scum of the world.

" _What the hell_ —?" the brown-haired, small-child-beater demanded as Magnus yanked him to his feet and pushed him away from the crying form on the ground.

Magnus glared at him, may have growled a little bit, and spat, "What do you think you're doing?"

The kid glared up at Magnus, showing _absolutely_ no respect for his elders. _Little fucking prick_.

"None of your business, Old Man," the kid said, causing some of the other kids to snicker. "Why don't you go back to the nursing home and wash all the sparkles off—you look like a fag."

 _Oh, no he didn't. He did not just insult the glitter_. Magnus clenched his jaw and told himself that he _was not_ going to turn this little asshole into a rodent—if he did, then he'd have to deal with shadowhunters, and they were almost worse than mundanes. Almost.

"You little punk-ass mother—," Magnus started to hiss, but another voice sounded before he could finish.

"What in the _world_ —? What is going on out here, boys? Why is Al—Is that _blood_?!" a female voice fretted, coming from the porch of the black-and-white house. Magnus lifted his head to see a woman with graying-brown hair rush down the porch steps, a man and a woman following closely behind her. She was dressed in a business suit, kind of like a real-estate salesman. Magnus almost winced—no one should ever wear a pantsuit. Ever. They were made to be used for emergency fire fuel, and nothing more.

The woman rushed over to the small boy, who was still on the ground. He'd sat up, though, and was cupping his hands over his nose and mouth, blood dripping through the cracks of his fingers and onto his shirt. Magnus felt a pang as he watched tears trickle down the boy's cheeks, his small face scrunched up along with his eyes as he shook and tried to calm himself down. He looked downright miserable, pitiful, and Magnus wanted to give the poor kid a hug. Maybe heal his wounds, at the very least.

Of course, he couldn't do anything like that. He was a stranger, a _nosy_ stranger, and it would've been odd for him to show any sort of affection for a child that he did not know. God, he needed a drink. And some aspirin.

"What happened?! Alec, sweetheart? Are you alright? You're bleeding—can I see? We should get you inside, honey, come on." The woman pulled the small boy—whom she'd called Alec—up into a standing position, and then carefully started leading him toward the house. The man who'd followed her out of the house before gently took Alec from the woman's hands and led him inside, looking just as concerned as the woman. He wasn't anything special to look at, the man: just a plain face with plain hair and an average height to him. Magnus only noticed him because he led the boy—Alec—with so much care; if it hadn't been for the boy, Magnus would've never taken the time to look at the man.

Magnus _really_ needed a drink. Or five.

He allowed his eyes to linger on Alec's back as he was led inside the house, and then, figuring that he'd done enough social justice for one decade, he turned to start walking back towards where Ragnor was standing on the sidewalk, watching the mundanes in front of him with acute boredom.

But the woman's voice stopped him before he could leave.

"What did you do to that poor boy, Daniel?! I know it was you—don't even try to get out of this—and somebody better speak up before I take away TV privileges for a _month_!"

Magnus turned to look at the woman, inching subtly toward the sidewalk as he took in her murderous form. She was small, sure, but her glare almost scared _Magnus_ —and that was a feat that no mundane had the right to accomplish.

The little punk who enjoyed beating smaller kids—apparently _Daniel_ —glared at his feet and refused to speak. Magnus clenched his jaw in anger, wanting to pummel the prick, but continued to make for the sidewalk. If only he could just disappear… But the mundanes would see if he did any magic—

"And who are you?" The woman asked, narrowing her eyes at Magnus and walking closer to him. She was rightfully wary, but at least didn't seem angry with _him_ —just at the little shit who had beaten the hell out of a child.

 _As she should be._

Magnus opened his mouth to introduce himself, when: "That's Magnus, Mrs. Thomas. He's staying with me for the summer, remember?"

 _Ah, Ragnor_ , Magnus mused. _What would I do without my little emerald prince?_

The woman—Mrs. Thomas, apparently—smoothed out her expression and smiled apologetically over at Magnus. "Of course, now I remember. I'm sorry if they bothered you, Ragnor, Magnus." She turned to glare at the little shit— _Daniel_.

Magnus smiled charmingly over at her, wiping away his need to pummel the little prick into the ground. He could do that later. "It's no problem, Mrs. Thomas—can I call you Mrs. T?—I was only worried about that little guy—Alec?"

He might have been pushing his limits with the seemingly kind lady, but he didn't care; he really was genuinely worried about that little boy. He looked really hurt, with all that blood… And the poor thing was crying…

Magnus bit his lip to distract himself, because just thinking about that little boy's crumpled face made him want to beat the ever-living shit out of Daniel the Prick. _He would pay._

Mrs. Thomas smiled at Magnus again, this time tense lines around her mouth. "Thank you for worrying, honey. I'm sure he's fine, though. That boy just bleeds a lot— _not_ that that excuses any of your actions, mister." The last part was directed harshly at Daniel, and the little shit at least had the decency to look chastised.

Magnus almost smirked—and he wouldn't have been able to control himself if he hadn't reminded himself that he was supposed to appear as an _adult_. You'd think that after having centuries of practice he would actually start acting like a grown-up, huh?

Oh, well. If he hadn't learned by now, then he was hopeless.

Ragnor spoke up before Magnus cold start another conversation—he was _still_ hungry, and Magnus, ever the talker, seemed to have forgotten that little fact. "Well, I hate to be rude, but we were just on our way to dinner, Mrs. Thomas. We should probably go now—Magnus?"

The dark-haired man glowered over his shoulder at his supposed 'friend'. _A is for Antisocial_ , he mused.

Mrs. Thomas smiled warmly at Ragnor, then at Magnus. "Of course, honey. I wouldn't want to keep you—I still have this one to deal with, anyway." She threw a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Daniel the Prick, and Magnus secretly hoped that she'd tan his hide. With barbed wire. Or whatever parents used these days… for illegal corporal punishment…

As Magnus walked back to join Ragnor on the sidewalk, he said to Mrs. Thomas, "Don't go easy on him."

Ragnor grabbed his elbow and yanked—hard.

Okay, so maybe that was inappropriate of him to say, but—

"Don't worry—I won't."

Magnus smirked at Mrs. Thomas. _Go Mrs. T!_

She smiled grimly back, and Magnus couldn't help a little twinge of pity for Daniel the Prick. He was going to get his ass beat.

But then Ragnor yanked on his arm again, and Magnus was forced to stumble after him down the sidewalk. And as he walked, his pity faded into satisfaction.

The prick had it coming.

* * *

 **New Story!**

 **And I know some of you guys are like, "What the hell? finish your other stories!" but... writer's block? I don't know. *shrugs***

 **And this is my first Malec fic, so... we'll see how this goes. :]**

 **Review, tell me what you think!**

 **Creds go to CC :D**

 **Review &Follow**


	2. Chapter One: The Beginning Part I

**Chapter One: The Beginning** _ **Part I**_

Magnus woke up earlier than he usually did—which was any time before noon. And it wasn't his choice to wake up, either. It was the damned doorbell ringing. Over, and over again

He groaned and rolled out of bed, not caring that he wasn't wearing a shirt as he sluggishly made his way out of the bedroom. Ragnor was the laziest person on the planet, and Magnus was going to give him hell later about being a better host. He _was_ the guest, after all, and he shouldn't have to wake up and answer someone else's door just because they're being lazy.

When Magnus walked by the kitchen, he caught sight of the stove, and of the clock that decorated it. He cursed under his breath—it was ten thirty. In. The. Morning. On a Saturday.

Whoever was at the door better have had a damned good reason for being alive so early.

Magnus padded through the living room, over to the entryway, and didn't pause in his grumpy, yawn-filled stomp as he swung open the front door. He started to growl out a harsh ' _What do you want?_ ' but the words died in his throat before he could even open his mouth as he took in the forms in front of him.

Mrs. Thomas, the lady who lived across the street and who had way too many kids for it to be healthy for her, smiled up at him. Since the last time Magnus had seen her—which just so happened to be about a week ago—she seemed to have gotten a better fashion sense. So, no—she wasn't wearing another godawful pantsuit. Thank god.

Another, much shorter someone was standing almost directly behind her, but Magnus couldn't see them very well, and he didn't really care who they were at this moment. He was tired. He was extremely grumpy. And now he had to deal with one of the scariest, sweetest mundanes he'd ever met.

Exhausting.

"Oh—Magnus! Just the person we were hoping to see!" Mrs. Thomas exclaimed, causing Magnus to bite back a groan because _It's too early, woman!_

But, of course, he didn't speak his mind. That would be rude.

"Mrs. T," Magnus said weakly, forcing himself to be polite. The lady was nice and all, but Magnus would've likely told her to get lost if he weren't staying at Ragnor's for the foreseeable future. He needed to be kind to the neighboring mundanes, after all.

Mrs. Thomas' eyes seemed to flicker down from his momentarily—before they snapped right back up and she began talking again. "I'm sorry if this isn't a good time—we can maybe come back later?"

Magnus could've cried out ' _Yes! Leave!'_ in relief, but he forced himself to be the epitome of welcoming host. _Be everything that Ragnor is not, Bane. Welcoming, kind, polite. You are the lonely housewife, needy for company and conversation._

"Oh, no—it's not a bad time, really. I was just sleeping, but I guess I needed to wake up anyway," Magnus told her, forcing a smile when all he wanted to do was slam the door in her face and go back to sleep.

Mrs. Thomas' eyes flickered down once more, and Magnus suddenly remembered: He wasn't wearing a shirt.

He swallowed and opened the door wider, saying, "You can come in, if you want. I'll just go… get dressed."

After she nodded, seeming relieved that a half-naked male wasn't going to be lurking in her vision any longer, and after she and whoever was behind her started toward the living room, Magnus shut the front door and hurried through the house to the guest bedroom—his temporary abode.

He shut the door behind him; blew out a breath; ran a hand through his hair. He was going to have to go entertain Ragnor's neighbors, it seemed like. That meant no more sleep. Damn.

Magnus sighed in frustration, and then snapped his fingers. An outfit, fully accompanied by dark kohl eyeliner and accessories, replaced his pajama pants, and he snapped once more—there wasn't enough color the first time. Or glitter.

He debated briefly on doing his hair, but decided that he couldn't be bothered, and left the room.

When Magnus reentered the living room, Mrs. Thomas had taken a seat on one of Ragnor's outrageously expensive loveseats. A small form, dressed in plain clothes, sat next to her, but Magnus couldn't see the form's face from where its hair concealed it. He sighed—it wasn't important right now.

After taking a seat on the couch opposite Mrs. Thomas and her seemingly shy companion, Magnus said, "So… you wanted to speak with me?"

Mrs. Thomas smiled at him warmly, just any mother smiling at her child. She was a nice lady, Magnus guessed. "Yes, we did." She motioned to her companion, but the form didn't move except to lift its head slightly. Magnus noted that it was a little boy, judging by his haircut. He still couldn't really make out his face, though…

"Well," Mrs. Thomas continued, "after talking with Alec about last week's unfortunate dispute,"—Magnus wasn't sure what she meant, but he allowed her to keep speaking—"he informed me that you, as he put it, ' _saved him_ '. And he asked me if he could come over and thank you."

Magnus blinked—Alec was… the little boy that Daniel the Prick beat up, right?

Mrs. Thomas nudged her companion gently with her elbow and nodded to Magnus, smiling warmly down at the little boy. He lifted his head slightly, a crimson stain across both cheekbones, and Magnus was stunned by the pure adorableness of the little guy. He wanted to squeal by the pure cuteness of the boy—but, of course, he didn't do that. Squealing was for pigs, and Magnus was far more cultured than a _pig_.

Deep blue eyes, innocent and rapturing, caught Magnus' briefly, and then the softest voice muttered, "Thank you."

Then the boy ducked his head down to its original spot, midnight black hair concealing his eyes once more.

Mrs. Thomas smiled down at the boy—whom Magnus deducted was Alec. He just didn't recognize him immediately, what with the whole _not_ sobbing and in agony thing. But he decided that he like the little guy—he was a mundane, and he _thanked_ Magnus. For doing what any person with a heart would've done. Precious.

"N—no problem, little guy," Magnus said, furrowing his brow to remember what he was being thanked for in the first place. And then he remembered. He turned to face Mrs. Thomas, a spark of anger coursing through his veins at the thought of the small-child-beater. "You _did_ punish that little prick—," Magnus paused, remembering that there was a child present. "I mean—that little jerk. You did, like, spank him or something, right?"

Mrs. Thomas looked positively horrified at the thought. "Of _course_ not! We don't hit children, Mr. Bane."

Magnus bit his lip and nodded, feeling chastised _. Okay, so maybe things are different nowadays from when I was a kid. It's only been—what?—five centuries? Seven? Who knew?_

"Right—sorry. I just… Did you at least ground him or something? 'Cause he beat up the little guy." Magnus motioned toward Alec sadly.

Mrs. Thomas sighed tiredly, but nodded her affirmation. "Yes, I did. And I am sorry about what you had to witness, Magnus. It's just… children are a handful most of the time." She smiled grimly, and Magnus felt sorry for her. She looked exhausted.

Magnus opened his mouth to say something, but the sharp ringing of a cellphone cut him off. Mrs. Thomas sighed, pulled her phone from her pocket, sent Magnus an apologetic look, and then answered it.

"Hello?—Oh, no—he didn't, did he?—Can you just—I'm over at Ragnor's house, James—No, it's not that important,"—she sent Magnus a guilty look, but he just waved it off with a smile; the sooner they left, the sooner he could go back to sleep—"Oh, alright. I'll be right over."

She hung up the phone and started to stand. "I'm sorry about that—some of the boys got into the neighbor's backyard and are digging up Mr. Randall's flowerbeds—it's a mess. I have to go, Magnus, I'm so sorry. This is so rude of me—," she fretted, starting toward the front door as quickly as possible.

Magnus waved off her concerns. "No, it's fine. Really. Go do what you need to do." He smiled kindly over at her, feeling triumphant that she was leaving. _And without me having to forcefully make her leave—and so soon!_

She continued toward the door, and only at the last moment did she seem to realize that she had forgotten Alec. She looked back in desperation at Magnus, bit her lip, and then said, "Do you think you could watch him for five minutes? I just—those boys are going to be a handful, and I really don't need him in the way…"

Magnus' smile disappeared. No. He didn't sign up for this. No.

He opened his mouth to say so, but Mrs. Thomas beat him to it. She smiled gratefully over at Magnus, who had stood up to escort her out the door. "Thank you so much. I'll be back shortly. Be good, Alec!"

And then she was gone—leaving a small, blue-eyed, black-haired child sitting in Ragnor's living room. Under Magnus' temporary charge.

 _Oh, god, why do you hate me so?!_

* * *

"So…" Magnus started, shifting awkwardly on the couch as he tried to figure out what to do. What did kids like? Games? TV? Screaming?

He was new to watching small children, if you didn't know. Well, as new as a couple centuries' worth of experience is, anyway.

"So… Um, you're mom's a nice lady," Magnus said. He almost slapped himself— _you could've talked about anything, and you choose THAT?! God, bane…_

Alec peeked at Magnus through his bangs and softly murmured, "She's not my mom."

Oh. Magnus tried to change the subject, because the boy looked rather uncomfortable. And the atmosphere in the living room was already awkward enough.

"Well…"

The small boy sitting on the loveseat curled in on himself, as if trying to disappear. He was adorable.

But Magnus felt bad for making him uncomfortable, so he said, "Do you like…" Magnus looked around the living room, searching for something to do. This was extremely awkward, and Magnus didn't do awkward. It just wasn't his style. "Um, do you wanna watch TV?"

Alec glanced up at Magnus quickly, blue eyes bright as they met his. Magnus hadn't noticed before, but he had almost-faded bruises on his little cheeks and a small cut on the corner of his mouth. _Poor thing_ … _I hope Daniel the Prick burns_. "C—Can we?"

Magnus smiled slightly—he was precious. "Absolutely. Here." He handed the kid the remote, watching as small hands grasped onto the plastic. Oh lord—he was so tiny. Must've been in kindergarten at the most.

Magnus watched Alec fiddle with the remote for a second, and then the TV was on and he was focused on making sure that the kid didn't find any of the more _adult_ channels to watch.

Because showing a kindergartener porn was probably something that got one damned to hell.

And Ragnor was subscribed to some pretty… well, _weird_ channels. He didn't want to scar the poor child for life—let the world do that, in a few years.

When some cartoon came on, Magnus sighed silently in relief and settled back against the couch. The kid was entertained, Magnus had yet to ruin any innocent childhoods, and Mrs. Thomas would be back in five minutes. He could do this. Five minutes.

Alec seemed perfectly content to just watch TV, so Magnus figured that it wouldn't be too terrible a thing to go get himself some coffee. Because really—what kind of damage could a little kid do while he was in the room next door? For two minutes?

Magnus stood. "I'll be right back. Do you want something to drink—water? Juice? I think Ragnor has some soda in the fridge…?"

 _Are kids supposed to drink Mountain Dew?_

Alec bit his lip as he looked up at Magnus, seeming to be fighting with himself. Magnus smiled over at him, trying to calm the little guy down.

"It's okay. You can have whatever you want."

A pause, then: "Soda, please."

Magnus smiled, nodded, and left.

* * *

He was just finishing adding creamer to his coffee when—

 _Crash!_

Magnus jumped, hot liquid spilling on his hand and foul curses coming through his lips immediately after. He hastily went to the sink and ran his hand under the faucet, cooling the pain down to a dull ache. Only after he'd calmed the pain did he remember just what caused him to spill his drink in the first place.

Furrowing his brows and sprint-walking through the door that led from the kitchen to the living room, Magnus went to investigate.

When he walked in the living room, Magnus was stumped—nothing appeared to be wrong. Nothing was knocked over that could've made that crashing sound, and Alec was still sitting on the loveseat where Magnus had left him. And he was _sure_ that the noise had come from in here…

"Did you hear that crash?" Magnus asked Alec, watching as the boy shrunk back into the loveseat. The poor thing looked absolutely terrified. He knew something.

Alec was biting his lip—harshly, but the look of it. He was going to make himself bleed if he didn't stop—

Alec raised his small hand, pointing to Magnus' left—where the entryway was. Magnus stared at the boy for a moment, wondering if he was alright. Alec was practically trembling.

Magnus opened his mouth to ask if he was alright—Alec was, after all, his responsibility, and Mrs. Thomas would kill him if she came back to find out that her charge had a heart attack under Magnus' watch—but a noise came from the entryway before he could speak.

" _Ow—dammit! Mother-fucking shoes—Magnus, damn you! Why the hell do you have to leave so many shoes in front of the door?!"_

Magnus sighed and rolled his eyes as he turned around to face the entryway. _Ragnor._

He was sprawled on the ground, grocery bags surrounding his legs as he scrambled to get up. He looked rather pathetic, if Magnus did say so himself. It was amusing, watching a hundreds-of-years-old warlock trying to find purchase in his own entryway.

 _This would make a good YouTube video_ , Magnus thought. He was a horrible person—warlock, whatever.

"Are you okay, Ragnor? You look a little… well, _down_." Magnus snorted. He was hilarious.

Ragnor glared up at him and finally pushed himself to his feet. He waved a hand, and the grocery bags vanished—most likely reappearing in the kitchen, food articles put away in their designated cabinets.

"I fell over your damn shoes, you dick."

Magnus chuckled. "I do have a dick, yes—it's a very nice dick, as well. But we weren't talking about my genitalia, now were we, dear Ragnor? No." He paused to glance at Ragnor's jacket and hat, which didn't go together _at all_. "And where _were_ you, anyway? I thought you were still asleep."

Ragnor passed a hand through his hair, knocking his hat to the ground. _It's so ugly, that I can't help but feel it's at home now_ , Magnus thought. If you didn't catch on yet—he hated most of Ragnor's clothing. Especially that damned hat.

"I went out to get food, because we were running low." Ragnor bent down to pick up his hat.

Magnus said, "But—why didn't you just snap up food like you normally do? It's a waste of time to go all the way to the store…"

Ragnor sighed through his nose. "I have some friends that work there, alright? It's really not a big deal—but I have a bone to pick with you, Magnus Bane! Stop distracting me!"

Magnus swallowed, settling in for the incoming lecture.

"Why the hell is there a kid in my living room?" the white-haired man demanded, scowling fiercely at Magnus.

Magnus smiled innocently and shrugged. "Mrs. Thomas had to step out—and you know I can never deny a being in need of help."

Okay—he may have fibbed a bit. So what?

Ragnor growled at him lowly, not buying his bullshit for one second. But he didn't call him out on it; he just pushed past Magnus into the living room, stopping to stare at the trembling child on his antique loveseat. God—where the hell did Magnus get off?

"Er… Hi?" Ragnor said to the boy, slightly alarmed by the child's trembling. What happened?

Alec made a terrified sound, squeezing back into the loveseat as far as he possibly could, biting down on his lip enough to cause blood to start making its way slowly down his chin. He winced slightly, but otherwise didn't take his frightened eyes off of Ragnor.

 _What did I do wrong?_ Ragnor wondered. _Mundanes are weird._

Magnus watched this interaction with a furrow in his brow. He was confused, and slightly angry at Ragnor for scaring Alec. And the kid wasn't just scared—he was absolutely petrified. It rose more than a few alarm bells in his head.

"Alec?" Magnus inquired softly, walking past where Ragnor had stopped in the doorway of the living room and slowly approaching the loveseat. He wanted to stop the poor thing from hurting himself further. "Are you alright, darling?"

Alec shook his head and scooted back away from Magnus, never taking his eyes off Ragnor.

Okay, so something was up. Magnus just didn't know what.

"Alec?" Magnus asked again. He was genuinely worried now.

Alec's voice was small, barely there, and it shook terribly when he spoke. "M—Monster…"

Magnus' frown deepened, and he glanced behind him at Ragnor, who shrugged. Magnus looked back at Alec, bending down to squat in front of him. Alec finally met Magnus' eyes.

"Sweetheart—Alec, there are no 'monsters' in here…"

Alec's lips trembled and a small droplet of blood traveled further down his chin, threatening dangerously to drip on his shirt. Alec looked behind Magnus again, nodding slightly at Ragnor and hugging his knees to his chest tightly as Ragnor stared right back. He started trembling even harder than before, and Magnus looked between the two as he tried to rack his brain for an explanation.

Was Alec… _scared_ of—of _Ragnor_? No… no, that couldn't've been it.

And besides—Alec was a _mundane_! He wouldn't actually be seeing Ragnor as he was; he would see whatever Ragnor looked like glamoured. Which was… just like any other mundane appearance.

Magnus stared at Alec in confusion, puzzled as to what he was talking about, but the doorbell rang out before he could say anything. He was getting cut off an awful lot today! _God_.

Ragnor broke eye-contact with Alec to go answer the door; Magnus straightened up from his position in front of Alec. It would look a little odd to Mrs. Thomas, had she come in to find Magnus kneeling before her charge, who looked absolutely terrified. Just a little.

A moment later, Ragnor and Mrs. Thomas walked into the living room, talking and laughing like old friends. Magnus watched with boredom as they exchanged pleasantries and discussed mundane things such as the weather. Who the hell actually cared about the weather, anyway? It wasn't that important—all you had to do was look outside.

Magnus rolled his eyes. Of _course_ it would be Ragnor who got along swimmingly with the mundanes.

Mrs. Thomas looked away from Ragnor after they'd finished talking, at Alec, and said to him, "Come on, honey. It's almost lunchtime—," she paused, furrowing her brows in concern as she walked closer to Alec. "Are you alright, sweetie? You're pale… Alec? What's wrong?"

Alec ducked his head, whispering, " _Monster…_ "

Mrs. Thomas straightened and blew out a breath. She glanced back at Ragnor and Magnus apologetically, helping the little boy up off the loveseat and directing him toward the front door. "Come on, Alec. It's lunchtime. I made your favorite…" she said as she guided him out of the living room, and Ragnor made sure to step clean out of their way as they passed.

Mundanes were strange.

When they were out the front door, Mrs. Thomas sent Alec home across the street, watching him like a hawk until he was safely through the front door of the black-and-white house. Magnus had followed them out, and he crossed his arms and looked at her with a brow raised as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Thank you for watching him for me—it was really kind. And I'm sorry about that whole 'monsters' thing." She shook her head and sighed. "Alec just has a very… er, very _overactive_ imagination. It's nothing to take personally." She looked behind Magnus into the entryway, where Ragnor was watching her with keen eyes. "He's always mumbling about ' _faeries_ ' and ' _men with fangs_ ' and all sorts of other nonsensical things. He really is a good boy, though… He just… needs a sense of reality, I think."

She smiled tiredly.

Magnus smiled back at her in reassurance, but it was false. He didn't particularly care whether she could tell or not. "Well, it was good seeing you guys, I guess…"

Mrs. Thomas took the hint, but she smiled as she started down the porch and called back to Magnus, "Alec practically hero worships you, you know. I have a feeling you'll be seeing him a lot more often than not."

She winked, and then she was gone, walking back across the street to her massive house and her too-many children.

Magnus watched after her, not liking her last statement. He didn't sign up to have small children 'hero worship' him. Though it _was_ a nice thought…

"Magnus? Hey—Magnus!" Ragnor called from the living room, snapping Magnus out of his thoughtful trance. "You gonna shut the door or what?"

Magnus sighed, but closed the front door and went back into the living room, where Ragnor had taken over the couch. Magnus rolled his eyes—it seemed like Ragnor had already forgotten the incident of five minutes ago.

But Magnus didn't push the issue. He just joined his friend in front of the TV.

But the thought of a small blue-eyed boy and the word ' _monster_ ' kept swimming around in his head, never far from the front of his mind.

* * *

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